


Invocation

by blakefancier



Series: Blake-Dayna series [1]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake and Dayna find that they have more in common than they realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invocation

**Author's Note:**

> This story is in the "All Through the Night" universe. But you don't have to read that story to enjoy this one.

It surprised Blake when the door opened under his hand. They all locked their doors: Tarrant, Soolin, even Vila these days. And of course Avon. Avon always had and probably always would.

He walked into the room and closed the door firmly behind him. Dayna sat at her worktable; she didn't glance up. There were bits of broken machinery on the floor and he side-stepped those as best he could. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

Blake checked a sigh; he hated this. He hated it, and if it weren't for Avon... But it could have been worse, at least he got on fairly well with Dayna.

"It's not your fault."

"Go away, Blake." She fiddled with a shard of plastic in her hand before breaking it in two.

"It wasn't your fault. Avon knew the plan, he knew the timetable. It was his own stupid fault. Dayna," he reached out and grabbed her hand, "Don't blame yourself."

"They were my bombs."

"Actually, they were *my* bombs."

She looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. "I made them!"

"It was my material you used. It was under my orders that you created them and laid them down. If you want to blame someone, then blame me." He squeezed her hand.

She shook her head but left her hand under his.

Blake smiled and let the silence lengthen for a time before speaking. "You never told me about your planet."

"What?"

"On Alderien, when I was shot. When we were in the cellar waiting for the others. I asked you about the stars on your planet. You never told me."

"There's nothing to tell. They were stars."

"Didn't you ever dream about them? The potential they held, the adventures?"

Her laughter surprised him. "Sometimes I forget how much of a dreamer you are, Blake."

"And what's wrong with that? What's wrong with dreaming?"

"You wake up."

"Now you sound like Avon."

She bit her lip and snatched her hand away.

He stifled a curse at his own stupidity.

"Why won't you tell me, Dayna?"

"Because there are more important things."

"Such as?"

"This." She gestured to the bits of weaponry.

"Guns? Bombs?"

"Yes. Oh, don't look at me that way. It's what I know; it's what my father taught me. Don't you dare judge me, not when you benefit from it."

Her father. He had forgot about Mellanby and how she had come to be with Avon. No wonder... "I'm not judging you. But you don't do this for me. Don't pretend that you do."

"No, you're right, I don't. I do it because you give me the best chance for revenge."

"Revenge," he said the word slowly, weighing it. "Be careful. Revenge is a cold comfort. It won't bring anyone back."

"It will make me feel better."

"Will it? It's only ever disappointed me. Perhaps it will be different for you."

"Don't patronize me!"

"I'm not. You kill Servalan, then what? What's left, Dayna?"

"She killed my father. She deserves to die."

"It won't bring him back. It won't--" Blake swallowed and looked down at the table. He ran the side of his thumb along a deep cut in the wood. "It won't make that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach go away. That feeling that only comes when you're alone and it's dark and quiet and you know, without a doubt, that the wrong person died. It won't make living easier."

"Speak for yourself." She stood up, suddenly, and turned away from him. Her chair tipped sideways and clattered to the floor. "I think you should leave."

He said, "The first time I saw the stars, without the benefit of windows, I was twenty-three. Twenty-three and until then I never knew they could look so sharp and bright. As if I could reach out my hand and touch them. As if they weren't light years away."

Blake closed his eyes and remembered his mother's star-mover. He remembered the bright points of light that covered the walls of his room and the utter wonderment as he tried to catch them with his fingers.

"Dayna." He opened his eyes

"What?" Her back was still to him and he could almost see the tension in the set of her shoulders.

"Were they like that on Sarran?"

"I don't know. Sometimes Lauren...we would go out on a late night watch. We'd hide somewhere, lying in the sand. She would make up stories about the stars. How this grouping looked like a warrior, that grouping looked like horse. I never--I could never see them." She turned to him; her eyes were bright and unblinking. "No matter how hard I tried, I could never see them. I don't have much of an imagination."

"Oh, I don't know," he said, letting warmth seep into his voice. "I think it takes quite a bit of imagination to create the weapons you do."

She looked at him for a moment before smiling. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Is Avon going to be all right?"

"It's just a broken arm and a mild concussion. He'll be fine. I should require him to wear a helmet when we go on missions. If he keeps getting his head bashed in like that, who knows what sort of damage could occur."

"Remind me to be on the other side of the base when the two of you have that discussion."

"One of the perks of leadership. Trying to tell Kerr Avon what to do."

"You love it."

Blake grinned at her. "I do."

Her eyes narrowed and she said, "Does that make you a sadist or a masochist?"

"I'm not sure myself."

"I suppose you could do a little more experimenting and find out." Dayna reached out and took his hand. He fought the automatic reaction to pull away. She stroked his fingers against her cheek then bit the fleshy part of his hand.

"Damn, that hurt!" He jerked his hand away and cradled it to his chest.

"Did you enjoy it?" She leaned against the table, smiling and looking at him from underneath her lashes.

"No!"

"Then you're not a masochist.

He rubbed the bite mark and glared at her. "Do I get to bite you next?"

"You could try, but we already established you're not a masochist."

"I could order you to allow it." He stood so she would have to look up at him.

"Another perk of leadership?" Their height difference didn't seem to bother her. She smirked. "Demanding the ridiculous."

"It's a horrible burden, but someone must lead."

Dayna reached out and stroked his temple. "I know you can give orders. But the question is, are you man enough to follow them?"

For a brief moment he was speechless. There had been moments in the past, times when she had shown interest in him, but this surprised him. He wasn't adverse to sex with her--Dayna was beautiful, intelligent, and the weapons she created were brilliant. But he had thought she and Tarrant were in an exclusive relationship. Evidently, he had been wrong.

Blake tilted his head to the side a little. "A good leader should be able to take commands as well as give them."

Dayna raised an eyebrow and said, "Kneel."

Blake paused then smiled. "You'll forgive me if I don't immediately drop down to my knees. They give me enough trouble on good days." Then he slowly knelt in front of her.

She laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Next time I'll take the age difference into account. Touch me."

Blake put a hand on her calf and looked up. "Here?"

She fisted his hair and jerked his head back. "Don't make me hurt you, Blake."

The slight pain from the gesture was like a switch: his cock hardened and he had to stifle a gasp of pleasure. He rubbed his head back against her fist, the tension of her fingers making his breath hitch in his throat. He squeezed her calf and felt her muscles flex under her jumpsuit. He moved his hand upward, feeling the line of her thigh. When he reached the curve of her hip, he rested his hand there.

She took a deep breath and moved to a wider stance.

"Yes," she whispered.

He slipped his fingers between her legs and rubbed gently. She felt wonderfully hot and he imagined her wet with desire. His breath came faster as he imagined slipping his fingers inside of her or using his tongue to lick her wetness. God, he wanted to taste her so bad his mouth was dry.

He stroked her harder until he could feel her pressing down on his hand. Then he leaned forward, nuzzling her stomach, feeling the soft slide of material against his mouth and cheek.

Dayna's hands caressed the nape of his neck to the rhythm of his fingers and her hips moved, shifted, sought a more fulfilling stroke. His own hips moved in response, his cock sliding against the material of his underpants, wetting them, making it difficult not to reach down and stroke himself, make himself come.

Suddenly Dayna let go of his hair and took a step back.

Blake almost fell forward. It took him a second to stop trembling enough to stand up. When they were face to face, he traced a finger along her jaw to her mouth.

"Do you want me to bite you again?" she asked, her voice sounding raw.

He shook his head, he did not trust his own voice, and brushed his lips against hers gently. Before he could pull away completely, she grabbed the front of his shirt and crushed his mouth with hers. She sucked, licked, and bit at his mouth before settling into a more lazy pace. He sighed and opened his mouth; it was hypnotic--soft and wet and lovely.

He rested his hands on her waist for a moment, then moved them upward, searching until he found the zipper. The teeth of the metal whispered open and soon he was touching the warm skin of her back. For a moment, he let himself revel in the heat, the smooth silk of her skin. Then he worked the top half of the jumpsuit off her body, first down the shoulders, then off each arm until it hung from her waist.

She broke the kiss and stepped back.

He cupped her breasts in his hands and used his thumbs to flick her nipples until they grew tight and hard. Then he bent his head and licked them, first one, then the other, tracing his tongue around each areola before using a broad, flat stroke over them.

Perfect, so perfect. He let a nipple drag against his lips, then sucked it. He thought that he could do it forever, feeling the flesh between his lips, the warmth of her hands as she lay them against his cheeks. Yet, he wanted more.

He knelt again and pulled the jumpsuit down over her hips to puddle at her feet...and almost broke the mood by laughing. He rubbed the material of her underclothes between his thumb and forefinger.

"We must get our pants from the same stockpile."

"They're comfortable," she said and reached down to play with herself.

Blake watched her for a moment before grabbing her wrist. "I want to lick you," he said.

*****

They were in her bedroom and she was on her back, her fingers were twined in his hair again. But that was fine. He could smell her; wild, warm, and damp. He could run his tongue over the velvet wetness of her labia, tasting her. He could curl his tongue inside her, or use it like a cock and fuck her with it. He could feel the heat of her thighs and her sex, hear the moans and the deep little sounds she made in her throat. And while he wanted to be inside of her, to be enveloped in her body, this was almost as good. Watching her lose control while he dragged his cock against the sheets was very, very good.

Then, when she was crying out and lifting her hips up, up, he ran his tongue over her clit, licking and teasing, until she shuddered and her fists released his hair.

When he went to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, she stopped him. She coaxed him up and licked the wetness from around his mouth. It was his turn to moan. That action made his whole body sensitized, charged; even the feel of the sheets against the skin of his palms felt sexual.

She twisted her body and he was underneath her. Her eyes were feral. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she lowered herself on his cock.

She thrust down on him hard. She thrust down on him as if she were trying to get his whole body up inside of her. He clenched the sheets and shoved up into her when she let him.

 

When they were too tired to fuck anymore, Blake expected Dayna to ask him to leave. But she surprised him by cuddling close, her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing light patterns on his chest.

Suddenly Dayna laughed and he frowned at her.

She shook her head. "And here we all thought you were pure and chaste, saving your energy for the Cause."

"Where did you get an idea like that?"

"We never saw you with anyone."

"Well, I'm not likely to fuck someone in the corridors, am I? It's called discretion."

"You don't have a lover. We would know if you did."

That was true enough. Not much got past the rumor-mill and rebels did love to talk.

"No, no lover. Jenna and I would, sometimes. And there was a young man...but he died a few months before, well, before you and the others joined up with the group."

"I'm sorry."

He caressed her shoulder and stared hard at the ceiling. "One of the hazards of getting involved. Which reminds me, you've had your contraceptive injections?"

She pulled away from him, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Have you?"

"Of course. But there's less chance of an accident if both partners are infertile."

"I have." She fell back against the pillows.

He sighed in relief and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. They were both silent and after a few minutes he looked over at her. Her mouth was open in sleep, one hand half-curled on the pillow.

He ran his fingers lightly over her jaw. She was beautiful. Then he shook her gently and her eyes snapped open. "Sorry. I'm leaving. I have a strategy meeting in a few hours and I should check on Avon."

She sat up. "I thought you said he was all right."

"Oh, he was. He is. But by this time either he's killed Dekon or she's strapped him to the hospital bed. Besides, I want his opinion on a few things before I meet with Avalon."

"Why? You know he's terrible at strategy."

He smiled. "I know."

"You don't want to disappoint him."

The smile faded and for a brief moment he saw Avon as he was on Gauda Prime. "Perhaps."

"Blake?" She hesitated for a moment and he knew exactly what she was going to say.

Rebels loved to talk.

"Don't." He kissed her gently. "You don't know anything about it."

She was silent and so he kissed her again.

"Have dinner with me, Blake."

"Dinner?" He was surprised. He expected...well, he wasn't sure what he expected.

"It'll keep me from having to hunt you down later." She rubbed her hand on the inside of his thigh.

"All right." He kissed her one last time and left. Undoubtedly things were beginning to stack up on his desk.


End file.
